New Cybertron 1: Jazz
by Frontline
Summary: Cybertron is reborn and a new age dawns for the Transformers. Jazz leads a force of Cybertronian Special Forces to locate a Decepticon missile that has the power to destroy Cybertron.


**TRANSFORMERS ARE THE PROPERTY OF HASBRO AND THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS. NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT IS INTENDED OR ANY PROFIT MADE.**

Optimus Prime stepped out of the lift outside the High Council Chamber, ignoring the sparking wound on the left side on his chest, striding past the two Cybertronian Defenders that stood sentinel outside the doors, which hissed open as he approached. He strode the central platform, looking up at the Dias, where the six members of the Cybertronian High Council sat. High Councillor Victoriax stood up as he entered the Chamber, his staff of authority grasped in one hand.  
'Your report, Optimius Prime.'  
'The Decepticon's have fallen back and Iacon is secure, Councillors. My forces are preparing to pursue Megatron and...'  
'Optimus Prime, you have done your duty and we commend you for your service. However, recent events have caused to re-evaluate certain aspects of our defence. It was your Autobots that permitted Megatron's escape from the Lunar 1 Prison and your forces that failed to prevent this assault. Six months have passed since Vector Sigma was reactivated and our civillisation is growing every day. In power. In numbers. In resources. And, in vulnerability. Your Autobots have fought valiantly, but you are only civillians. The time has come for the military to take responsibility for our defence. Therefore, I am ordering the activation of the Cybertronian Defence Force, effective immediately.'  
'High Councillor, I believe that is premature...'  
'Our forces have been training for three months, Optimus Prime. As of now, the Autobot forces are stood down. Those that wish to continue fighting may, of course, enlist in the CDF. As for you, you will continue to serve as Prime, at the order of this Council. Tomorrow, you will take command of our Forces in Polyhex. Dismissed.'

Jazz stood on the ramparts outside the Council Chamber, looking at the sprawling cityscape of Iacon below him, smoke still rising from the remnants of the fires that had been burning. As he watched, he saw the Protectorbots racing along the roadway beneath them, heading towards another fire. Around him, the Autobots stood at watch on the walls or carrying the injured into the field hospital. Ratchet would be busy, tonight.  
'Some homecoming this has been.' Jazz said, turning towards Prowl, who was standing by his side. 'This was supposed to be it, you know? Megatron was beaten, kept in stasis lock with the rest of the Decepticons, stuck in prison on Lunar 1. All that we'd fought for, we'd got. Our victory. Our freedom. Our home. How did it all go wrong?'  
'Megatron escaped.' Prowl said, without taking his eyes of the city. 'And I'm going to find out how. We've come to far to let him destroy Cybertron a second time.'  
Jazz was silent for a moment, before he asked  
'Did we...do the right thing? Reactivating Vector Sigma?' I mean, we've got a whole city to defend, now. We're vulnerable, dude.'  
'We needed more than just a handful of Autobots if we were going to rebuild Cybertron, Jazz. You know that. It was the logical decision. It still is."  
'I wish I could be as certain.' Jazz said, mostly to himself, turning towards the Council Chamber.  
'He's sure been in there a while, huh?' Jazz said, without turning round.  
Prowl said nothing, knowing that Jazz's question had been rhetorical and that nothing he said would help, anyway. They would know soon enough. The door to the meeting room hissed open and Jazz turned, snapping to attention as Optimus Prime emerged, the door closing behind him. Even before he spoke, Jazz knew what the answer was. He'd known Optimus for long enough to be able to read his mood.  
'That bad?' He asked and Prime strode towards them without a word, gesturing for them to follow him and they fell in step behind him as he lead them towards the exit. Only when they were outside did he speak, his voice heavy and weary.  
'The decision...is made. Effective immediately, the Autobot Forces are stood down.'  
Jazz felt the shock run through his circuits and turned to Prowl, who nodded as if he'd expected the decision, which he probably had. Prowl's logic centres had probably computed that this was the most likely outcome some time ago. But, Jazz wasn't about to let it go so easily.  
'Just like that. Victoriax is just going to...'  
'Supreme Commander Victoriax' Prime said, cutting him off, 'has made his decision. We knew that things might come to this, eventually.'  
'Logically, it is what's best for the future of Cybertron.' Prowl added. 'Isn't that why we started this is the first place?'  
Jazz had no answer for that, so he turned back to Optimus, asking  
'So, what happens to us, now?'  
'That will be up to each of you. Those that wish can enlist in the Cybertronian Defence Force, or return to civillian life. I will not stand in the way of those decisions. Either way, we will go our separate ways from today.'  
'What will you do, Optimus?' Prowl asked.  
'I am still Prime.' Optimus said, his voice regaining some of it's former certainty. 'I will continue to function in that capacity as long as I am able. I have been offered the rank of General in the CDF, which I intend to accept. There are still Decepticon's out there. Our war is not over, although it is not ours to fight alone anymore.'  
'Then, that's where my place is.' Prowl said, stepping forward. 'I'm still your Tactical Advisor.'  
'I would not have it any other way, my friend. You will be most welcome.'  
Prime said, before turning to Jazz.  
'And you, Jazz?'  
'Like you said, Prime. There's still Decepticon's to fight and I'm the best there is.'

One week later...

The rumble of the transports engines surrounded Jazz as he sat, strapped in by the metal clasps that gripped his shoulders, staring blankly at the scratched bulkhead, ignoring the gazes of those around him. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed the insignia that was etched into his chest, feeling strangely lost at the alien feel of it under his fingers. Instead of the raised Autobot sigil that he was so used to, there were two concentric rings, joined by a diagonal line that sliced through them; it was the symbol of the Cybertronian Defence Force, and he was a member, now. The morning after the meeting with Prime, he had enlisted in the CDF. Prowl had insisted that he wait, to think about it, but Jazz knew what he had to do. There was still fighting to be done, and that was what he did best. A faint clang ran through the airframe and the hatch ground open with a faint whine, the Sargeant getting to his feet, on the Command Deck.  
'Alright, you scrap-heaps, move it!' He yelled, his voice cutting across the chatter and Jazz released his restraints, trooping down the ramp with the others, emerging on landing deck. Around him, transports, gunships and single-person fighters were arrayed across the deck, with technicians swarming all over them This was Sigma 77 Barracks, the operational headquarters of the Special Operations Division and his new home for the foreseeable future. He stopped, finding himself looking over the training grounds, watching the drills going on around him with disdain and suppressed a grimace; these were newly created warriors, trained for a few short weeks and them deemed battle-ready. Perfect.

Despite the mass of activity around him, Jazz recognised a structure amongst the apparent chaos. The vast hanger below the landing deck was divided into tiers, each tier designated for a particular activity, under the watchful eye of a Lieutenant or Captain, and at least one Sargeant. The nearest tier was given to hand to hand combat, lines of soldiers practicising maneuvers with eerie synchronisation, mirror images of the mech next to him.  
Proficient, but no flair, no creativity. Kids, that's what they are. Probably only been online for a few months, and most of that spent in basic training. Poor guys.  
Jazz thought, resisting the urge to shake his head, glancing at the other tiers, spotting weapons training and marksmanship drills, bomb disposal and infiltration training taking place. Above this was a large window built into the wall, which commanded a view of the activity going on below.  
'Soldier!'  
Jazz turned to see a Barracks Sargeant storming towards him and came to attention, watching carefully as he approached.  
'Identify yourself, soldier.'  
'Jazz, Special Oper...'  
'I said, identify yourself, soldier. Number, now!'  
Jazz sighed, inwardly. He'd forgotten that the Cybertronians used numbers, not names.  
'SO 77-8923, Sargeant.' He said, keeping his voice even with an effort.  
The Sargeant paused for a moment, while he ran the number through his database, his face hardening somewhat as he looked back at Jazz.  
'Report to Commander Nova soldier. Immediately.' He said, gesturing over Jazz's shoulder at the observation window, before turning and marching away without a glance backwards, leaving Jazz smarting.  
Come on. You expected this. Focus.'  
Jazz told himself, and set off towards the Commander Office, where armed two guards were standing to attention outside the armoured doors. One of the guards pressed a button and the door hissed open, Jazz stepping through into the office, coming to attention before the desk where Commander Nova sat, snapping a salute. Commander Nova was a dark red mech with yellow trim, the styling of his chest plate leading Jazz to believe that his alternate was a heavy vehicle. He rose from his chair, fixing him with a steady stare, returning Jazz's salute.  
'SO 77-8923 reporting, sir.' Jazz said, managing to keep his tone even with an effort. This was getting ridiculous.  
Nova was silent for a second, before he said  
'I want to make one thing clear, 8923. This is not the ragtag Autobot Army and I am not Optimus Prime. You're a member of the CDF now, and I expect you to remember it.'  
Before Jazz could even engage his voice unit to respond, he continued  
'I know all about you Autobots and your lack of discipline. You may have fought the Decepticon's for years and, Primus knows, you did the best job you could. But, this is a military operation now and we have rules that I expect you to follow. Do I make myself clear?'  
A sharp retort formed on Jazz's tongue, but he let it good, saying instead  
'Yes, sir.'  
'Good. I understand that Training Command has declared you mission-ready. You've been assigned to Vanguard Company, Alpha Squad. Report to Lieutenant Stormblade on Tier 14 immediately. Dismissed.'  
Nova sat down behind his desk again, returning his attention to his terminal and Jazz turned on his heel, matching out smartly, showing no sign of the anger that he felt. The CDF had never liked the Autobots, still treating them as civillians playing at being soldiers, never mind that they'd fought the Decepticon's to a standstill for years. He bunched his fist, but refrained from smashing it into the wall next to him, despite his burning desire to do something. He straightened up with an effort, knowing that he had an order to obey.

Jazz strode down the steps towards Tier 14, where four Cybertronians were waiting, watching him as he approached. Two were about his size, looking to be Warrior and Engineer classes judging by their configurations, while the other was clearly a Scout, being only about half their size. The last, judging by the rank insigna on his shoulders, was Lieutenant Stormblade. The Warrior, his green form accentuated by a light chest plate and domed helmet, as well as thruster units visible on his shoulders, stepped towards him with a smirk on his face.  
'Well, now we're scrapped. Seems the rumours are true. High Command really did send us an Autobot.'  
He stepped closer to Jazz, looking him up and down, dusmissively.  
'That right?'  
'Nightsight...' The Engineer said, but he silenced him with a glance, turning back to Jazz.  
'Yeah, I was an Autobot.' Jazz replied, levelly, folding his arms across his chest and the Warrior laughed.  
'Well, you civvies can all relax, now. The CDF will kick the Decepticon's in their exhaust manifolds, once and for all.'  
'Don't underestimate the Decepticons, kid, unless you enjoy spending time in stasis lock.' Jazz warned, feeling his anger rise, despite himself.  
'We've spent centuries fighting them, and...'  
'Centuries? Guess you've not being trying that hard. Still, what else would we expect from a bunch of pacifistic civillians? We're soldiers. We've been trained for this since we we're created, and that means we're better than you. Got it?'  
Jazz was about to retort, Stormblade's voice cut across the Tier, bringing the three of them to attention.  
'Stand to! Nightsight, if you've got time to be talking, you've got time to be training. Come on, snap to it. High-Eye, Arcweld, pair up. Nightsight, see what our new recruit can do.'  
Jazz stood calmly as Nightsight advanced on him, fists raised, in a classic fighting stance and he had to suppress a grimace. He wasn't going to enjoy this. Nightsight moved, jabbing a punch towards Jazz's head and he sidestepped casually, the blow whistling past his head and Nightsight turned, swinging a roundhouse punch that Jazz ducked, rising to grab his arm and throw him to the floor. With a snarl of rage, Nightsight leapt to his feet and charged, aiming a kick towards Jazz's chest. Jazz caught his foot and lifted him off balance, sweeping his other foot out from under him. Nightsight crashed to the floor and Jazz placed his foot onto his chest, pinning him in place.  
'If I'd been a Decepticon, you'd be dead right about now.'  
He said, standing back and extending his hand towards him. However, Nightsight ignored him, springing to his feet and advancing again, when Stormblade yelled.  
'Check!'  
Nightsight fell back, although his eyes still pulsed with anger, as Stormblade pushed him into line with the others.  
'Jazz, you're in command. Deploy your Squad for standard recon of Stanix. Dismissed."

Jazz leapt from the Gunship to the ground, his servos absorbing the impact with ease and he looked around, sweeping the area with his rifle. The Stanix region was bordering Decepticon territory and it's close proximity to Iacon made it an ideal staging ground for their forces. While their main Headquaters in Kaon, if an attack was going to come from anywhere, it would be here. Cybertronan forces made regular patrols of the area, to detect any Decepticon activity.  
'Alright.' He said, 'Move out. High-Eye, scout ahead, but keep a low profile and stay within a klick of our position.'  
'What's a klick?' High-Eye asked, and Jazz cursed, inwardly. He'd forgotten that they did not know Earth slang.  
'A ?' Jazz said and High-Eye nodded, turning and transforming into his jet mode, a sleek nosed aircraft with swept back wings and a large radar dish mounted on the back. With his enhanced scanning capacity, he'd detect any Decepticon's long before he reached them, so Jazz turned back to the others.  
'Nightsight, take point.' He ordered and Nightsight shouldered his rifle, brushing past him with out a word. Jazz put it from his mind, with an effort. He had enough to worry about, for now. They made their way through the streets that were lined with ruined buildings and decorated with craters, evidence to the fierce fighting that had take place here centuries ago. Before the evacuation from Cybertron, Stanix had been Decepticon Territory and sight of some of the fiercest battles of the war, having withstood the strongest assaualts that the Autobots could mount against it. They reached the foot of a tower that seemed structurally sound, despite a few holes in the exterior wall and Jazz held up his hand to halt the Squad, looking upwards.  
'We need to get a better visual of the terrain ahead of us. Let's go.'  
Three floor later, they stood on the roof of the tower, looking at the expanse of Stanix stretching around them. The City was dark, with no lights or evidence of any life and Jazz felt a chill, despite himself. Even after all the rebuilding that they had been doing, there were still areas like this that needed a lot of work.  
'That's the Energon refinery, isn't it? Arcweld asked, pointing to the long, low building to the West and Jazz nodded.  
'Yeah. Intelligence suggests it's Power's been drained since the war, but they can't be sure.'  
'Why's that?' Arcweld asked.  
'Because the Squad they sent to investigate never came back, that's why.' Jazz replied, without taking his eyes off the horizon.  
'Well, let's hope we don't have to go there, then.' Arcweld said, and Jazz grinned, despite himself.  
'Your circuits are misfiring.' Nightsight interjected, his voice thick with anger. 'Something in there killed our own, so we should kill it. Are we soldiers or not?'  
'We have...' Jazz began, when his radio crackled to life.  
'Alpha-4 to Alpha 1.'  
High-Eye said and he activated his short-range comm.  
'Alpha-1 here. Go ahead.'  
'Incoming Aircraft on bearing 226.15, airspeed 5.0. Negative transponder signal.'  
'Cover.' Jazz commanded, pointing towards the stairwell. 'Now. High-Eye, get to ground and stay there.'  
They scrambled down the stairs, Jazz leading them off at the next level where they crouched behind the ruins of the wall, hearing the faint roar of the engines approaching.'  
'Contact!' Nightsight said, his Sniper Rifle aimed with his optic fixed to the scope and Jazz followed his gaze to the shape that was approaching over the buildings. It's course was erratic, a curving arc that told him something was wrong a second.  
'Can you identify it?' He asked and Nightsight nodded.  
'Cybertronian Gunship, Sentinel-class. Should be close enough for a secure transmission.'  
Jazz nodded, activating his comm again.  
'Cybertronian Gunship, this is SO Alpha, do you read?'  
'Ackn...edge, SO Alpha. Request...ediate assistance.'  
Jazz recognised the voice and his spark froze.  
Ultra Magnus!  
'Magnus, what's your situation? Do you read, over.'  
Silence came over the comm and Jazz looked up in horror as the transports engines detonated with a dull roar and it began an uncontrollabled plummet towards the ground, disappearing behind the buildings.  
'High-Eye, track the Gunship, predict the crash site and deploy for immediate reconnaisence. Nightsight, Arcweld, prepare to move out!'  
Arcweld moved forward, but Nightsight put out his arm, stopping him in his tracks.  
'What? You're not going after him? We have a mission, remember. Our duty...  
'I know what my duty is, Nightsight, and you've got your orders. Now, move out.'  
Jazz said, turning and brushing past him.  
Hold on, Magnus. We're coming.

'Scrap! Jazz! That's a complication that we can do without.'  
'Yeah, Runabout. So, we need to move if we're going to get to Magnus, first. He knows too much to allow the Autobots to find him.'  
'Cybertronians.' Runabout said, absently.  
'Whatever. Let's move.'  
They turned and transformed, driving down the ruined roaddeck towards the crashed shuttle.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE.  
THANK YOU FOR READING.  
ANY COMMENTS OR CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISMS ARE MOST WELCOME**.


End file.
